


Flowers In The Darkness

by DarkDreamsOfHannigram, theconsciousdarkness



Series: Therapy [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Top Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDreamsOfHannigram/pseuds/DarkDreamsOfHannigram, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theconsciousdarkness/pseuds/theconsciousdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal knows that Will is suppressing his true desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers In The Darkness

He lay in the vast expanse of Hannibal’s bed.

Surrounded by crisp white sheets, thick pillows covered in ornate silken fabric, Will rested quietly in the middle of the night. The faint scent of night-blooming jasmine from Hannibal’s garden lingered in the room, drifting in through the slightly open window that led to one of the lavish covered porches.

They had retired late, after a light meal on a Friday that for once demanded little in the way of patients or fieldwork. Rest had eluded him this time, for no specific reason, other than his mind refused to quiet. Hannibal, however, was deeply asleep, or as deeply as he ever slept, Will mused, looking over at the other man. Turned on his side, the strong curve of his back was visible even in the near darkness, his body naked except for the light cotton sheet that was draped over his hip.

Will, too, was without any sleep attire, though he had pushed the sheets off himself and over to the side of the bed, anticipating being warm. Turning over on his side, he watched Hannibal, staring at his back and the slow, almost imperceptible rise and fall of his ribs. He reached out, wanting to make contact, but his palm fell short of its intended destination. The desire to touch Hannibal was so strong his chest ached - he wanted to run his hands over his chest, his shoulders, through his hair. Will sighed, toying with the edge of the sheet to keep his hands busy.

 _He has to be asleep_ , Will thought as he inched closer again. With a tentative hand he lightly stroked his thumb over the dip of Hannibal's shoulder blade, waiting, not breathing, to see if the other man awoke.

An inaudible sigh made Will’s shoulders slump in relief, before he gently ran his fingers down the smooth skin. It was intoxicating, touching Hannibal - it always was, though he was often reticent to do it. His senses were too easily confused, too overcome by all of the possibilities. He shivered at the mere thought of it all.

Mind wandering with images of all of the limitless things he dreamt of doing, his hands became more confident, a little surer in their movements. Hannibal’s solid frame, bone and muscle and sinew just under the skin made him impossible to resist. Will lay his palm carefully against his man side. It was hypnotic feeling the even measure of his breaths, and after a while he was calmed, tired even.

He was so relaxed now, in fact, that he failed to notice the very slight change in the other man. Hannibal smirked, no intention of letting on that he had been awake for quite some time. The nearly ever-present tremor in Will’s hands had ceased - Hannibal could feel the heaviness in his touch as he began to sink toward sleep. He had every intention of finding out what had started the unexpected, albeit pleasant, desire to touch him without waking him - but that could wait until morning.

There was a quiet groan behind him then and then Will’s fingers were sliding softly down his back, arm falling in the space between them as he finally succumbed to sleep. Minutes ticked by, Hannibal patiently counting them in his mind, before he turned over and stretched out on his back. He slipped an arm under Will’s shoulders, confident that enough time had passed that he was unlikely to wake, at least completely. Briefly, he stirred, eyes sliding open for mere moments before his head fell back.

Hannibal found it only fitting to return the favor Will had bestowed upon him, and carefully guided him to rest against his chest. He grinned, scratching calming little circles into the warm skin. Tomorrow would be very enlightening indeed.

Hannibal slept deeply at first, his dreams filled with insubstantial images and impressions; Will’s closeness, the measured depth of his breathing, all served to make Hannibal’s mind calm and free of any specific narratives. It was just Will, and breathing him in.

Later, as the dawn began to paint a dim light on the semi-translucent drapes, his conscious thoughts returned piece by piece. He remembered, more through tactile sense than through words, the hesitant but needy touches of Will’s fingertips against his skin. He could recreate the trail of warmth they sent along his flesh, and it brought him to greater wakefulness. Hannibal spent the next couple of hours before Will began to stir doing that in his mind, over and over, before he let himself explore its implications consciously.

At the full coming of the day, he permitted himself to meander down the paths of various scenarios. They all had the same destination. Will was beginning to want him in a way he had only scarcely allowed himself to imagine. But the want was becoming tangible. Without an invitation to make it real, Will would keep it to himself, perhaps indefinitely. He had an unfortunate tendency to bottle up his true urges, _causing himself psychic damage unimaginable_ , Hannibal thought. And he felt it was his duty, and his honor, to help him along the road to letting go of these inhibitions.

Will began to shift and stir, signifying that he was coming out of a deep and restful sleep, almost always the case when they spent the night wrapped up in each other, in multiple ways. Hannibal brought him to further wakefulness by stroking his hair, perpetually falling onto his forehead, soft and thick.

When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Hannibal serenely, and knowingly, looking at his slightly parted lips. Hannibal traced them with his thumb. What he said next would have to use carefully chosen words.

“I could feel you, in the night, Will. Touching me. The heat of your fingertips even now still lingers on my skin. It permeated my dreams. I should hope that you would wish to repeat this, as I am awake, and more able to memorize every pattern you trace. The caresses carried your desires as the wind carries the scent of a heady, night-blooming flower. Tell me what they are.”

Will’s eyes widened in shock at the words, certain he’d been asleep. Hannibal smiled down at him gently, thumb brushing against his full lower lip until he glided it over the curve of his cheekbone, flush with color.

 There was a quiet gasp, and Will stiffened, worried he’d been found out – but Hannibal’s long fingers were weaving through his hair, soothing, calming, and he sank into the embrace, smiling up at the other man.

 But he grew serious then, and quiet, and for a long time he lay in silence, until he finally whispered:

 “I didn’t mean to wake you, Hannibal.” There was a deep sigh, before he continued. “I thought you were asleep. You looked so beautiful. And the jasmine, from your garden, the scent was coming in the window and…” Will took another deep, shaky breath, and laid his head Hannibal’s chest.

 A strong arm encircled his shoulders again, as during the night, and Hannibal made no attempt to speak, letting Will guide the pace. Trailing his palm over Hannibal’s chest, he grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together.

“I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes,” Will continued haltingly, anguished, “sometimes I’ll see you, and I want to touch you so terribly. Last night, when I thought you were asleep, I couldn’t help myself.”

The silence descended back over him again. He didn’t dare make eye contact, so he rubbed a thumb along Hannibal’s hand, over his long fingers and across the strong bones, worried of his response.

Hannibal let Will trace his fingers for a few moments before stilling the movements by holding Will’s hand. He could feel the slight tremor in it, and he grasped it firmly until he felt it subside.

“I have always wished for you to explore and understand the deepest desires that exist in your mind. No matter what they consist of. Would you think that this was any different?” He said this in a reassuring way; out of anyone else’s mouth, it might have sounded like vague disappointment in a lack of trust. He continued:

“Your need to touch me, Will. Why would you resist it?” He heard Will try to speak, confusion and genuine inability to answer silencing him. Hannibal put the question to him in a more specific way, one that Will’s abilities would be able to take hold of:

“Imagine me, awake instead, your hand caressing my body the way you did in the night. Recollect the scent of the jasmine. The silent stillness of the dark. Tell me: how did you think I would react?”

Will looked up at Hannibal, smiling slightly, calmed by the pressure from his grasp. Fingers trailed up his shoulder, winding into the curls at the back of his neck, a patient touch while he gathered his thoughts.

 “I’ve never felt safe before, Hannibal. Waking up, wound around you, without being plagued by nightmares? It’s so strange, I’m afraid it’s all just an illusion. You’ll vanish, like mist. I’ll have dreamt the whole thing.”

 Hannibal’s fingers tightened in Will’s curls and he shivered, goose bumps prickling down his arms at the feeling. It was Hannibal’s turn to say silent – his words and reassurance could wait until the images and desires buried deep in Will’s mind were brought to light.

 His eyes started to slip shut while he gazed up at him, voice quiet and distant as he surrendered himself to visions:

“The jasmine smells beautiful. I love the garden, on the back patio, and I think that it would be wonderful to have dinner there sometime. In the late evening. When all of your night blooming flowers are giving off their scent. I tell myself that I’ll ask you if we can do that.

You must have opened the window when you disappeared after dinner. I come into the bedroom and see you’ve turned down the bed. I smile to myself and shed my clothes, so eager to see you come into the room. I can hardly wait to see you stripping naked, to feel you against me. Your arms are around me, we’re tangled in each other, and I can’t fathom falling asleep any other way.

Sleep claims you before me though, and I lay for hours, quietly, with the jasmine still drifting in through the window.

Being so close to you, I think of all the things I want to do, to feel. You roll over at some point, and the small amount of space lets me watch you – the way you breathe, the slight movements you make. And I think how beautiful and strong you look and I’m so overcome that I reach out to touch you.

I don’t dare do it while you’re awake. It’s like you’ll disappear before my eyes somehow.”

He groaned quietly and was silent for a time, eyes tracking slowly beneath his closed lids, as if in dreams.

“I want to touch you. Every part of you. I slide my hands over your chest, down your ribs, loving how you move when you breathe, when you smile down at me. I want to run my fingers through your hair, drag my nails down your back, the insides of your thighs. All the pleasure you give me, I want to give it back to you a hundredfold.”

Will had begun shivering, trembling ever so slightly as he spoke, and Hannibal held him closely as he continued:

“I want to kiss you, until you can’t breathe, your eyes bright and full of longing. You pull back, such a hungry look on your face.

You push me down, straddling me. I stretch out, on my back, a-and watch as you-you start to sink…to s-sink down on me…”

His speech faltered and he stuttered, closed eyes tracking wildly and erratically. The depth of Will’s passion and desire, both spoken and yet still buried, to be uncovered over time, was fascinating to Hannibal. He thrilled at the very thought of what lay hidden inside the mind of the man who rested against him.

Hannibal could feel himself becoming physically aroused at the depth of desire in Will’s trembling voice and his shaking body. Taking his pleasure from Will had always been an active experience for him, and he would ensure that it stayed that way. However, there were other methods, which they had not yet explored between them, which could be employed.

One of Will’s hands, which before he had only been touching, Hannibal now guided down to one of his thighs, as it was something specific Will had mentioned.

Will’s eyes opened, and were wide, pupils blown. He began to worry at his lower lip with his teeth, but his expression was more curious than worried.

“As you can observe, I am awake. Have I vanished into smoke?”

Will shook his head just a little, releasing his lip.

“You would…you would let me?”

“No Will, I would not ‘let you.’ I would cultivate any desire you have when it comes to me, I would  wish it to flourish. This is the very heart of the hunger you envisioned on my face. You said that this imagining of yours began with dinner in my garden, amongst the jasmine. I think that would be a perfect place to begin. What do you think?”

…………..

Many days had passed since their conversation, and while Will had not forgotten it, it had settled into the back of his mind as the commotion and turmoil of everyday life had invariably taken over. And so Will was pleased when Hannibal had invited him to spend several days together – his classes adjourned for the summer and no pressing cases or patients to attend to.

Dinner that evening had been unassuming, but still elegant in a way that only Hannibal’s meals could be.  A light soup, with rustic bread, fruit, and a mild cheese had graced the table – a simple meal for a warm summer night. They had eaten outside, under the lavish covered porch, as twilight gave way to late evening. Hannibal brought out a chilled white wine, once the dishes had been cleared away, offering a calming smile as Will reached up for the glass.

He rested his hand lightly on Hannibal’s thigh, as he came to sit next to him, before loosely twining their fingers together. Looking out over the sky for several minutes, he watched as the last of the light faded away, and slowly finished his wine. “I think I might go to bed,” he said quietly.

Hannibal said nothing, but pulled away from Will’s grasp, combing his fingers through his dark curls. His hand came to rest on the back of the other man’s head, thumb raking along the always-tense muscles of his neck. Will let his eyes close and they sat quietly for a time, until Hannibal finally stood, fingers trailing over his shoulders.

The wine glasses were taken inside and Will followed, going upstairs to the en suite to shower. He turned on the taps and stripped, waiting for the water to warm, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

The shower was quick. Utilitarian. He toweled off, forgoing even a pair of shorts, and returned to the bedroom.

It was then that he stopped and held himself very still, the sudden realization of what was happening - in his absence the bed had been turned down on his side and the window opened, the fragrant scent of Hannibal’s carefully tended night-blooming garden drifting in on the summer breeze.

While dinner on the porch had been suggestive of something, Will dared not hope it was actually happening. He closed his eyes, feeling his breath quicken, and his heart beginning to pound.

The light rustle of clothing filtered in through the noise in his mind and in an instant a strong arm was sliding around his bare hips, another crossing over his chest to grasp his shoulder.

A small, surprised exhalation of breath was all that Will could manage as he was pulled backward into Hannibal’s embrace.

As Hannibal’s arm crossed his chest, Will reached back, and held his hips firmly against him. His knees became weak as he could feel Hannibal’s already-hard length press against his ass. He could feel that Hannibal had taken only his jacket off, and was otherwise fully dressed. Frequently, this occurred: Hannibal was clothed while Will was naked. But something about this time felt different.

Will felt the arm against his chest drop, tracing the line of his body, from ribcage to his thighs. And then turning him around.

Will searched Hannibal’s eyes for any sign of resistance. When he saw none, he slid his hand up to the back of Hannibal’s neck, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Hannibal seemed more pliant than usual, his muscles relaxed as he allowed Will to move his mouth to his neck, biting gently down to the side of his jaw.

Will suddenly wanted to have greater access to his neck. He took the tiniest step back, and Hannibal took his hands, and placed them on his tie. A wordless request to undress him.

Focusing on his hands so they wouldn’t shake, Will loosened and then finally unknotted Hannibal’s tie, letting it lay around his neck. He unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, and placed the kisses on his collar bones that he’d so desired.

Hands moved down to Hannibal’s waistcoat, and opened it, more sure this time, but still slow and deliberate. He took it, along with the tie, and laid them down on the chair just behind him, not even turning to do so.

Will trailed his hands up Hannibal’s suspenders. In and of themselves, they weren’t especially meaningful; but something about the fact that they were concealed by his outer clothing made removing them a particularly intimate act. Will slipped his fingers under each of them, and slowly pushed them down his shoulders, until they hung at his waist.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming, and that this is real,” Will breathed against Hannibal’s ear.

Hannibal took one of Will’s hands, and placed it over his heart.

“Nothing is more real than this. You have to learn to trust in your needs, Will. Did you think I would not permit you to explore these desires?”

He moved Will’s hands to the top of his trousers, and Will’s hesitancy faded like the final streaks of light in the sky had that evening. He opened them, and gently untucked Hannibal’s shirt free. Starting at the bottom, each button was undone. Will moved the palms of both of his hands up Hannibal’s chest, savoring the feel of each muscle as he felt it, warm and alive beneath his hands.

The very action of touching Hannibal, unhurried, carefully, was overwhelming. Will slid shaking fingers up from Hannibal’s broad chest and over his shoulders, hands circling over his neck and tugging lightly. He leant down and Will reached up to kiss him.

Breathless after only a few moments, he pulled away and pushed Hannibal’s crisp dress shirt from his body – it caught easily around his arms and Will tugged it free, setting it carefully on the chair. He knelt down then, working the leather tabs free from his suspenders and trousers, before taking him by the hips, urging him to turn around.

Hannibal hid a smile as he moved and Will freed his suspenders from the back, pressing his lips to the heated skin above the waistband, mouth against the gentle curve of his spine.

He was turned slowly back, Will holding the latest item in his hand, before it was set aside. While Hannibal’s trousers had been partially undone, Will slowly slid the zipper down, kissing his stomach as more skin was revealed. There was a barely suppressed moan as he caught sight of the silk boxers – a deep burgundy, sitting low on his hips.

Will shut his eyes, shaking slightly, and let Hannibal’s trousers drop to the floor.

The sound seemed loud in the otherwise quiet room and this time, Will was unable to stop a needy sound from escaping his parted lips. He leaned forward, warm tongue against the tender skin of Hannibal’s abdomen, and sucked gently as he slid a hand up the other man’s thigh.

An approving sigh met his ears and Will hooked his fingers under the waistband of the silk garment, easing them down as they fell slowly to his ankles.

Eyes still closed, Will knew that only Hannibal’s socks remained – he rubbed his hands down the muscular legs before he fingers stilled on something he didn’t immediately recognize.

He made a questioning noise as Hannibal worked his fingers through his hair, hands resting on the top of his head. Will opened his eyes to see the last remaining item of clothing – sock garters.

He was motionless for a moment, processing all of the things that made up the outward image of Hannibal in his mind: his stately manner of dressing, his crisp shirts, ornate ties; and the things more hidden – the suspenders, his silken boxers, and now this.

It was too much. Will dropped down, hooking his fingers under the elastic and kissing the exposed skin, groaning at the thought of finding something so hidden beneath Hannibal’s impressive clothing.

They were pushed down, over his calf, his ankle, off the heel of his foot, until Will was slowly sliding them free, lips trailing fabric as he went. He did the same to the other foot, setting them aside.

He struggled up on his knees, panting, and rested his head against Hannibal’s thigh, fingers curling close to his cock.

“Hannibal, please,” Will groaned deeply, “I need to…”

Hannibal smiled down at Will, such a beautiful sight on his knees, pleading eyes shining against the dim light of the room. He smoothed his hair off of his forehead, and Will pressed his temple against the warmth of Hannibal’s broad hand.

“Of course. But just for a moment. Remember what this night is really about, Will.”

He saw that Will’s reluctance to advance the evening’s activities was only due to fear of unexplored territory; but he was well acquainted with having a thick cock in his mouth, and reasoned that allowing Will to ground himself in the familiar, before going on to the new, would serve to calm his nerves.

A slight nod was all that Will needed to know it was permitted to proceed. His expression was one of both relief and reverence as he brought his lips to the head of Hannibal’s cock, and closed his eyes in a look of blissful meditation.

He took it very slowly, as if he wanted to make the moments stretch for as long as he could hold on to them. Tongue followed lips, and he soon was circling the large head, steadying himself with hands that stroked Hannibal’s thighs. This was something he could grasp, pleasuring Hannibal in the way he had done uncountable times before; often even on his knees, but frequently in other more unorthodox ways.

Hannibal allowed him to take his entire length in his mouth, as gradually as he pleased. He gave himself a few moments to be carried along with Will’s need, breaths of satisfaction escaping his mouth. A few times thrusting hard against the back of Will’s throat, and he regained his determination to not let Will avoid what he was wanting, needing to do, but still feared to press.

He took Will’s stretched jaw in his hand, and pulled back. Will didn’t protest, but whimpered with the loss.

Hands that were placed on his thighs were taken comfortingly into Hannibal’s and Will came to his feet as evenly as he could manage.

The hand strayed back to his jaw, and Will, wanting to cut off the eye contact as soon as he could, took it as a sign that he should hold Hannibal’s naked body to his clothed one, and kiss him deeply. It began to make him think of the control this conferred, the opposite of what often happened between them, where Hannibal was dressed and he was not. A spark of power began to ignite, and he held Hannibal tighter and kissed him harder. His clothed length pressed up against Hannibal’s.

A sudden wave of boldness washed over Will, and he turned Hannibal to back him up to the bed. It would be too much to say he flung him on to it; but the push was a little more forceful than he would have thought himself capable of. Hannibal’s slightly surprised expression as he landed was extremely gratifying.  Will stripped off his shirt, still wearing a thin blue t-shirt underneath. The jeans and shoes and socks followed, but he was still wearing much more than Hannibal.

Will grinned as he approached, a little of his former apprehension falling away as climbed on the bed. Hannibal had propped himself up on his elbows, a mild and amused expression on his face to help keep the mood light, at least for now. Will swung a leg over, straddling Hannibal’s chest, and bent down to kiss his neck.

 “You look so beautiful Hannibal,” he sat back on his heels, kneeling over him, and began to run his fingers down over his shoulders and sides.

Hannibal mirrored his movements, slipping his hands under the thin t-shirt that clung to Will’s frame, vaguely wondering how long he’d had the item. It was soft, pairing in a casual but lovely way against Will’s pale skin, the color a perfect contrast for the dark curls that hung loose over his forehead.

Hannibal brought his hands around to the front, looking at the faded logo, and felt, before he heard, Will’s quiet laughter, already knowing what he was thinking.

“I don’t know what it says anymore either, but it’s comfortable.” His lips turned up in amusement suddenly and he grinned again. “I want to see you in one, sometime, you’d look amazing.”

A brief, uncontrollable look of horror passed over Hannibal’s face and Will collapsed forward, laughing warmly, before burying his face against the other man’s neck. The sound gave way to a contented sigh, and Will pressed his lips to Hannibal’s skin, tongue darting out to taste.

As Will moved, the shirt had ridden up, exposing an inviting expanse of skin that Hannibal couldn’t resist touching. He raked his nails across Will’s back, bringing about a deep shudder, and dipped his fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh…” Will sighed again before moaning softly, rolling his hips against Hannibal’s, shivering from the contrast between naked skin and silk.

Broad hands travelled up Will’s back, and brought the t-shirt with them; it was pulled over his head, and tossed aside without the kind of care Hannibal would show for his own clothes. Will was too distracted by the feel of the other man’s body to notice. The gentle kisses and soft bites he’d been applying to Hannibal’s neck became fiercer as Hannibal was now free to draw his fingernails up the entirely of the expanse of skin, encouraging him to go harder.  The time for ease and lightness between them was at an end.

Will stretched out over the solid body beneath his, feeling Hannibal’s cock pressing into his hip, surging against the silk of his last remaining piece of clothing, greater force applied with his teeth. Soon Hannibal had tilted his head back, baring his neck in what could be mistaken for a gesture of submission; but in actuality, he was exerting control over Will’s instincts, driving him. Hannibal felt him hard against his thigh, then a knee between his legs, forcing them wider. He drew up his knees, holding Will into him.

One hand going down to Will’s ass, Hannibal cultivated the ferocity more, drawing his nails one more time up Will’s back, to tangle in his hair. Will would stop biting to suck in a ragged breath, and Hannibal could feel his heart pounding. He could just force a hand between their bodies, to stroke Will’s cock through the shorts. All the tension gradually drained from his body, as the focus turned to him. Hannibal could hear his breathing regulate as he concentrated on this new sensation. Winding him up, winding him down, a cycle of arousal that would push him further than he had ever dared go.

The touches became lighter and less insistent by degrees, until Will was no longer panting hard against Hannibal’s ear.

“Will…” he said quietly. “What do you want. Right now.”

A moment, regaining breath and speech. “I want to taste more of you.” A hesitation, before all pretense and nervousness faded: “Turn over, and get on your knees.”

Hannibal heard a sharp intake of breath after his words.

Will paused, a singular second that to him that seemed to stretch out into eternity. A hesitant hand came to rest against the bend of Hannibal’s ribs, and he turned over on his knees. Will’s palm moved down, softly, caressing as he went. There was reverence in his touch, the slide of skin on skin and the implication of what would come after.

“Fuck,” Will breathed out hard, nudging him slightly. His eagerness made him clumsy – he struggled with the sheet before shoving it away all together. There was a little shiver to his movements, his enthusiasm barely concealed behind shaking hands.

Fingers dug into Hannibal’s hips and then he was being pushed forward, head dropping between his shoulders. Will had the vague, fleeting image of bruises, in the shape of his own fingers, lingering on Hannibal’s back. He gripped him even tighter, thumb rubbing over the softness he meant to mark.

“Just like that.” It was a hiss, almost, longing and desire so evident that it made the silence that followed almost unbearable. Breath was hot on Hannibal’s side as Will sunk down, his hands smoothing over his hips to rest on the rounded curve of his ass. His lips found their way to Hannibal’s spine and he held his breath, savoring the warmth and wetness of Will’s mouth. The softness yielded to him, and he sucked hard against Hannibal’s skin, teeth closing over tender flesh as he moved.

There was another pause, laden with significance, and then Hannibal was being opened. Slowly. Deliberately. Will’s hands pushed into swell of his ass, spreading him wide.

Will saw a fine tremor go down the other man’s back and he nearly came undone. The skin beneath his lips grew heated and he pressed small open-mouthed kisses as he worked his way down.

“I need to taste you. Every single part of you.” It was whispered and desperate, in a mad rush of words. In an instant Will’s tongue was against Hannibal’s hole, pressing hot and eager to his tight flesh.

 _So tentative_ , Hannibal thought, as he could feel just the slightest touch of Will’s tongue. The idea of his hesitancy, combined with the hot wetness against his most sensitive place, made his legs tremble, just a little. It did not escape Will’s notice, who was looking for any sign that he was doing well. It made him just that much more confident, applying the entire flat of his tongue over Hannibal’s entrance. He was fast rewarded by a shift of legs, a sighing breath. If he hadn’t been so determined, he would have collapsed himself. He remembered to breathe.

Hands spreading Hannibal open, even wider; Will’s lower lip used to enhance the pressure on Hannibal’s perineum while he applied broader, more confident strokes, warm and  firm, longer each time. Hannibal’s head dipped, his shoulders still high. A quiet sound escaped his lips, fully beyond his control. It was surprising to him; but the devotion of Will’s mouth was quickly becoming overwhelming. Quite involuntarily, he found his hips rocking back, only fractions of an inch, finding himself needing more contact. Once begun, this was far too enticing, all around. Will’s desire to please all too evident in his synchronous responses back, pressing in just the smallest part of the tip of his tongue.

The more he advanced, the more Hannibal wanted him to keep going. Soon, he was finding himself moaning, mouth open. When Will entered him fully, he looked down at his hand and saw that he had begun to tightly grip the crisp sheet in one tightly closed fist. This was worship, if any such divinity existed on this plane. Will’s fingers driving, bruising, into his flesh, marking him as object of reverence.

Will held him steady all the while, sliding in and out fully now, feeling a greater measure of control than he felt he had a right to. He was doing his, causing this evident pleasure. ‘Powerful’ wasn’t a strong enough word for how he felt. He varied his technique, tracing just inside the rim, before thrusting in again, all the way. He found that holding back, even for a second, made the reaction that much stronger.

Half-formed words, carrying the tone of his accent, the natural cadence of Hannibal’s voice, were next to follow. A breathy “yes,” a dark, extended, “mmmm;” these were tumbling from his mouth, unbidden, and Will memorized the sound of each and every one. Hannibal was riding Will’s tongue, the words replaced with low noise from deep within his throat, bestial, needy.

After one particularly teasing caress of Will’s tongue, followed by the furthest incursion of it yet, Hannibal heard himself gasp, and whine a drawn-out, “Fuck. Ohhhh, Fuck.” Will could hardly believe what he had heard. Until he repeated what he had done, and Hannibal said it again.

He startled, a tremor going through his whole body as he felt that waves of pleasure wracking through Hannibal’s body. Dipping his tongue in again, past the tight ring of muscle and into unimaginable warmth, he was rewarded with another sound of abandon.

Will pulled back, a tiny bit, the flat of his tongue resting flush with the heated skin before him. He smoothed his palm down Hannibal’s side, his hip, until he was spreading him open again with both hands, face pressed deep into his flesh.

There he stayed for a time, working up a rhythm of starts and stops, surging forward and then sliding back, until he heard a sound that bordered on a sharp, involuntary cry.

“More.”

The single direct demand, hushed, labored, went straight through Will’s thoughts.

With the tiniest hint of teeth against sensitive and unguarded flesh, he brought his hand up, a single finger sliding inside where once his tongue had been. His own breath, so loud and troubled in his ears, was matched only by the dark sounds falling from Hannibal’s lips. He eased another inside.

Lightheaded at the mere thought of it, there was a sudden pressure against his fingers, Hannibal tensing beneath him in fevered desire. Will hissed, biting his lip hard to control his shaking hands. He stretched his fingers apart, spreading Hannibal by degrees. Searching.

Scarcely breathing, he watched his body open before his eyes. Overcome, Will pushed forward. Slipping his tongue inside, easily this time, he pressed past his fingers and into the deep heat of Hannibal’s body.

No imagining – and he had done quite a lot of that – could prepare Will for the reality of the act. This perfect intimacy, this synching of doing and response, was a darker and deeper connection than anything he could have anticipated. Hannibal was rocking back into his touch, shivering with pleasure at the sliding of his tongue; his legs were shaking. And Will was causing it, controlled it. He could pull back, and make Hannibal arch his back for more, and he could give it. And he did, for what was a timeless stretch.

Acting on instinct, to make Hannibal want more. He didn’t think. Will was an instrument to gratify and indulge. He knew to slide another finger inside, and to begin to roughly stretch Hannibal’s entrance; it caused him to gasp, but press back for more. Always more. He had said it, and he was intent on getting it. Will could see his cock leaking, a steady pearlescent stream unbroken from his length to the sheets.

He moved his tongue to Hannibal’s perineum, and added a third finger. Entering him past his knuckles, he observed how perfectly he stretched around him, and how his ass gaped just slightly when he pulled out. He penetrated him over and over, watching with unbridled lust how he took the fingers; Will soon found he could think of nothing else than what it would feel like to enter that hot, slick tightness with his aching cock.

It was then that he realized he was painfully hard; he hadn’t been focusing on anything but what lay before him. Hannibal was growling now, his body insisting that Will go harder and faster. He was gripping the sheets tightly with both hands, bracing himself; a sheen of sweat covered his back. Will began to lose focus; the connection had been broken as soon as he began to feel the needs of his own body.

Hannibal slowed down, as if he felt it too.

It was frustration, Will realized sluggishly – he wanted to continue, to feel that heady sense of command that he wasn’t quite sure he deserved. He ached to keep going, to hear the deep and unconscious noises that fell from Hannibal’s lips.

The act felt over before it began. There was so much more he longed for – to do, to touch. Hannibal eased forward and though no words were spoken, Will understood what was to follow. With a final press of eager tongue and lips, a curl of his fingers into the tight and enveloping heat of Hannibal’s body, Will withdrew.

There was another growl, from the very core of his being. The noise shook Will, at the realization the raw and unrestrained pleasure he had caused.

“No, please…” He braced an arm against Hannibal’s thigh, his hip, and felt nothing but desire and power surging through his form. That alone was enough to make him lightheaded. The very thought that he had done this, had been the instrument to cause a tiny crack in Hannibal’s composed exterior, was too much.

Desperate to maintain contact, Will reached out, trembling hand caressing over Hannibal’s ass. Up his hips, across his back, he felt the warmth of his skin, the sweat, and the unmistakable feeling of arousal flowing through him.

Overwhelmed and confused, Will brushed his palm across Hannibal’s stomach, wrapping his hand around the hard length of his cock. It was unbearably hot in his hand, head swollen and thick when he touched the sensitive flesh. Pre-cum leaked freely as he pressed hard into the slit and Will pulled back, eagerly cleaning his fingers.

Hannibal indulged him for a moment, his composure having returned to a degree. Lost to experience, Will failed to notice Hannibal moving, until he was being guided onto his back, pressed backward into a waiting stack of pillows.

He begged, crestfallen, desperate to continue what he had started. Hannibal swallowed his pleas with a teasing tongue, bruising his lips until he pulled back with a breathless whine.

Hannibal began to lean back; he trailed lingering kisses down Will’s chest as he sat upright. The rapid breathing began to slow, and Will could feel his concentration returning gradually. Though the things he’d been doing to Hannibal had seemed to end quickly, now that he’d had a moment to think about them, they seemed burned in his mind, as an image left on the retina from staring too long into the light. The way he’d tasted, the way he responded; the smooth places he’d felt his tongue against. The memory of how tight Hannibal had felt, invaded by both fingers and tongue, and how much more easily he’d opened up after the latter. He’d not wanted it to end, but he realized, as of course Hannibal did, that he needed these moments to solidify the experience, make it real.

By the time Hannibal was fully sitting up, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on Will’s abdomen to gauge the depth and regularity of his breathing, Will was more focused. He looked up, and smiled.

Hannibal was lazily stroking his own cock, and Will watched for a few moments, seeing the large hand work its way up and down the thick shaft, until a drop of precum fell slowly from the darker head, to coat his fingers.

A satisfied sound, deep from within Hannibal’s throat, fell from his lips, and Will looked up to meet his gaze.

“You’re ready for more, Will.”

“Yes.” A simple answer, breathed out in quiet, but fevered, desire.

Hannibal moved back a little, and drew two fingers up Will’s cock, as if fascinated by how aroused he was. He reached over to the bedside table, finding the lubricant he’d placed there for this purpose. When he poured some over Will’s length, it seemed like he’d lose focus once again. But the even pressure of his hand, as he stroked Will, just as he’d been stroking himself moments before, centered him again.

Will realized this was another moment he’d like to keep; the vision of Hannibal slicking up his cock, ready to take it. The thought of that, how it would feel as he pushed inside for the first time, caused him to nearly faint. But the realness of it, the solidity of fingers gliding over his aching hardness, anchored him in the moment. He tried to take deep, even breaths, while he watched the dexterous hand.

Fingers and palm slid slowly along, the regular pressure giving way to a series of alternating strokes. Faster. Slower. The brush of a thumb over the leaking flushed head. The focused attention made him hungry, his body aching for whatever was to come.

Aware now though he was, it was at the expense of some of his senses. Hannibal was speaking to him, he knew; low tones that made his accent dark and sweet. The sound, while he couldn’t make out the words, flowed over him, eventually finding its way through his fevered thoughts.

“Please, I’m ready. So ready.” Will groaned, breath giving out as he saw Hannibal rise up slightly, abdominal muscles flexing as he positioned himself. The deep noise gave way to a sob and Will covered his face, hips lifting of their own accord in agonized anticipation.

“Shhh…” Hannibal reached out, a broad warm hand easily gathering both of Will’s wrists in his grasp. He held them loosely, with a kind of reverence, guiding his arms back down.

“Yes, Will, so ready. I can see how you burn, how you ache to be availed of your distress.” The last word slid off his tongue, a promise of what was unfolding before his unbelieving eyes.

Still gently holding his wrists, Hannibal’s other hand found its way back to the hard, slick length before him. He rose up again, guiding Will’s cock, until the swollen head pressed teasingly against his entrance.

The steadying breaths of the man beneath him, once enough to keep him centered, had been abandoned for tiny gasps of need. Hannibal felt the strain of conflicting expressions – arms so lax they were nearly limp in his hold, while Will’s thighs and stomach tensed so greatly that he felt the muscles’ rhythmic contractions.

Will’s mouth dropped open, lip bruised from where his teeth had captured it in desperate concentration. A silent cry escaped, his eyes so wide and full of unwavering trust that Hannibal’s chest burned at the thought of it.

He latched on it, at the depth and feeling of what he could see in Will’s eyes. Understanding the weight of what was to happen, he held him, in body and mind, as he slowly sank down.

Hannibal let go of Will’s wrists so gradually, he had scarcely noticed, until he found his hands drifting to hold his hips. As much as Hannibal needed to time to let his body adjust to having Will fully inside of him, he needed to give Will time to thoroughly feel all that he could now. The unbelievable tightness, the heat of Hannibal’s body, the weight of him resting against Will. So solid, so undeniably real. None of these things could _ever_ be a fever dream.

Just breathing, and watching each other’s faces, for uncountable moments. Then, almost imperceptibly slowly, Hannibal began to raise his hips, and Will guided them. Sliding along about half of Will’s length this way, he lowered himself once again. He was taking his time.

Will remembered to breathe, but his abdominal muscles stayed tightened. Hannibal put the flat of his palm against them, and Will found that if he relaxed when Hannibal raised up, then tightened them when he sank down again, the feeling was intensified. Will’s mouth was open, and he thought to close it, breathing in through his nose, out through his moth.

Once this rhythm had been established, it was almost like meditating. There was nothing else in the world, than this.

This sequence could go faster, and slower once again; and so it did. Hannibal would push Will further into the intense sensations, then ease him back. Rolling his hips, he began to lean forward. When Will’s cock made greater contact with his prostate, he finally broke the eye contact, and Will studied his face. He’d turned his head just to the side and was breathing hard now through parted lips.

Will relinquished his hold on Hannibal’s body, and found one of his large hands, which he guided to his cock, the head swollen and wet. Hannibal opened his eyes again, a small but wicked smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and began to stroke.

It was a strange combination of sensations Will thought sluggishly, as he watched Hannibal's large hand sliding in teasing strokes over his cock. For as much as he focused on the scene in front of him, the pressure and tightness that enveloped his own aching flesh was nearly unbearable. He had the vague sense of being held. He cried out from the unfamiliar feeling, but the vision in front of him brought him back, if only slightly.

Will looked up, shuddering, the former control over his breathing lost to a strangled sob of pleasure as Hannibal bore down on him again. The same devious smirk still played upon his full lips and Will couldn't help but stare in muted fascination at the look of pleasure in his eyes. Tentative fingers wrapped around Hannibal's hand, palm being pulled along in unison as the strokes grew faster, more insistent. The thick head of his cock disappeared into their shared grasp and Will snapped his hips forward. He dug his heels into the bed, thrusting hard and fast into his heat.

Head thrown back, a sound issued forth that to anyone else but Hannibal would have sounded pained. Lips pulled back, his teeth bared, he gasped deeply each time he plunged back inside. A flush, almost angry in its intensity, spilled dark across his chest, expanding with each labored breath. For as tentative as his hold was around Hannibal's cock, his other hand had found purchase against his forearm, fingers dug in with bruising force. He drove forward again, nearly mindless in his pleasure.

Hannibal had thus far deliberately pushed Will far into sensory and pleasure overload, in order to allow him to experience the full range of what this act could do to him. But now, he had to pull back, to slow, lest it be over far too quickly.

He eased up gradually, taking Will from the precipice he'd reached so fast. Despite being unable to process conscious thought, Will's body responded to the softer rhythm, stroking Hannibal in time with the alterations. Even his grip on Hannibal's arm loosened, though he did not let go.

Rocking his hips at a steady, purposeful pace, Hannibal watched as Will's breath began to regulate. He had almost been on the verge of hyperventilation. The redness of his skin faded into a coral pink. His eyes, squeezed shut at the moment he'd plunged fingernails into deep depressions into Hannibal's flesh, opened slowly. He watched his own hand, working without thinking up and down Hannibal's length.

Not breaking the series of smaller movements, Hannibal began to shift forward by degrees. In a few moments, he was covering Will's body, who reluctantly gave up the position of his hand, moving them from Hannibal's slick cock, to wrap around his waist; but this allowed Will to pull him closer, and to feel a different kind of pressure that enveloped him completely.

When Hannibal had finished changing position, his mouth was over Will's ear.

"Can you manage to savor this, Will? To temper your responses and reign in your instinct to let go? You will be able to soon enough; but to postpone it will be to intensify it."

Without waiting for a response, Hannibal's lips moved to Will's neck, where he raked them over Will's pulse, gently at first, but becoming hungry, as he moved faster again.

This had the effect of allowing Will to drive into him as forcefully as he wished, without as much potential for going over the edge before he wanted to. Will found that he could focus on the pleasure, then fade it out and focus on the pain when the former began to course like fire in his veins. His nails could now dig into Hannibal's back, and he gave no thought to how severely he was marking him.

The slight gasp he heard from the man above him, the little exhalation of breath spurred him on even more. Will’s head fell back, a strained groan issuing forth that fell deep and dark against Hannibal’s ear. He could see, in his mind’s eye, what had happened; could feel, even against his  flesh, what had taken place – his frantic touch, nails against Hannibal’s back with no thought as to the intensity of his actions, had drawn blood.

Hannibal watched him curiously, at the dawning realization of the very minor wound. Will’s eyes widened. First in fear, then in lust. His sounds, once a singular moan, descended into a continuous groan of strained pleasure. Hannibal felt his fingers track along the dip of his spine, the small drops of blood smeared across slick, heated skin.

His whole body was tensing. Muscle pulling, stretching, as if he threatened to break apart beneath the other man at any moment. The ability to thrust too quickly was denied by Hannibal’s weight, so Will rocked his hips instead, cock buried as deeply as the position allowed. He could tell each time the swollen head pressed against his prostate, a small involuntary gasp as his reward.

Will continued, a sense of power and gratitude working its way through his fuzzy thoughts, for the ability to bring such feeling to another. A rhythm developed in his thrusts, until he felt an almost imperceptible shiver in the other man. Abruptly, Hannibal’s teeth sank into the soft flesh of his neck. Will felt the great tide of Hannibal’s uncontrolled pleasure wash over him. A cry – part pleasure, part pain and then Will was slowing his movements slightly, uncertainty just on the edge of his awareness.

Will’s doubt was quickly erased when he felt Hannibal gripping his arm with such great force, he could almost feel the bruises forming. A noise, somewhere between a growl and a whine, came up from deep within his diaphragm, and Will knew then that the intense angle of penetration had done its work. Hannibal began to cum; if the pain of his grip and the sounds he was making didn’t tell the full story of it, the feeling of his semen, hot and wet, gushing forth between their bodies, certainly would have.

His attention was forced to bear sharply on what he was physically experiencing. The heat of being inside of Hannibal was somehow increased as Will felt his tightness pulsing around his cock, still thrusting as hard as he could manage. So many different senses were engaged at once, the word “overwhelming” was totally inadequate to describe the experience. He no longer thought or cared about the wounds he was delivering to the flesh of Hannibal’s back; he tried and failed to remember to breathe. Will became aware of another cry, a distant sound, before realizing he was the one making it.

The weight of Hannibal’s body increased, as he could no longer support himself fully, shuddering with the throes of his release. Still, somehow Will managed to keep going, moving his hand from Hannibal’s back to his hip. Breaths were forced from his body as they rocked together like this.

Another hand moved to feel the muscles of Hannibal’s ass flexing as his movements became more fluid. He was regaining some control, but barely. The slickness between them, sweat and cum, made friction practically impossible, but Hannibal braced himself on the bed, the heel of his hand digging into the mattress.

“Don’t stop,” he was finally able to say, his voice a hoarse, dark whisper, full of lust and sincerity. “Don’t stop, Will. I want to feel you cum inside of me. Please.”

Will’s voice caught in his throat, but he nodded frantically at Hannibal’s words. He slid his hands up, away from Hannibal’s ass, fingers splayed out over his hips where he held him so hard he could only imagine the bruises he might leave. Rocking into him, he saw the other man’s eyes close for a brief moment, then open again with such intensity that the look alone started to push Will over the edge.

His whole body tightened, the feeling spiraling up until he sensed the first stirrings of release, beyond his ability to control. He spilled abruptly into Hannibal, cock buried so deeply into unimaginable heat and pressure that he could scarely make sense of the feeling. Will cried out, groaning, his rhythm completely gone save for the frantic and unbearable need to thrust into Hannibal. The slick press of skin on skin and Will was suddenly grabbing the other man’s arm, pulling him forward even as he continued pounding into him.

It seemed an eternity before he finally began to weaken. He curved his other hand over Hannibal’s ass, fingers sliding through his own cum as he drove forward one final time. Will sobbed out his name, heels dug into the mattress when he finally collapsed.

Barely able to take in enough air, his head tipped back, light-headed and dizzy, watching as Hannibal hovered over him. His weight was a solid grounding presence, anchoring him to the present when his body and mind threatened to drift from his awareness. But he held fast. Will grinned, exhausted, and pulled Hannibal down into a breathless kiss, twining his fingers through the damp hair at the base of his neck.

“You feel amazing,” Will whispered against his lips.

"You feel...strong. Powerful, despite the outwardly vulnerable position you have been in," Hannibal replied.

He shifted his hips, Will's softening cock sliding out of him. They both reacted to the sensation, Will shaking and Hannibal sighing languidly. He settled next to Will, still covering most of his body, arm resting on his still heaving chest.

Will's fingers strayed to the place on Hannibal's skin, just at the crest of his hip, where he'd been gripping so tightly.

"I've hurt you," he said, concerned.

In response, Hannibal put his hand over Will's, placing the fingers just over the blossoming marks, and pressed into them.

"I hope that they stay there, just as they are. At least for a time. It will put me back into this moment."

Will touched them, tracing them lightly, hoping he could go back into this moment too. And wondering if he could do this again.

Hannibal could easily tell what he was thinking.

"Greater control, Will. In subsequent times, you can take it for yourself."

Looking at him, and not quite believing this statement, Will stroked the hand over his chest. It had the effect of lowering his heart rate. He breathed in the scent of the night, flowers in the darkness. Warm air coursing over his body, all stillness and quiet. Thinking of this, this _taking control_. Could he?

"You're sure? You'd like that?"

Hannibal brought Will's fingers to his mouth, and pressed his lips to them, both in reverence and reassurance.

"I am. And I would."

 

**Author's Note:**

> After such an experience, neither Will nor Hannibal would not want it to be the only time. More will follow, to answer the question of whether Will could take greater control.


End file.
